


10 Years after Son et Lumiere

by ivorygates



Series: Son Et Lumiere [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Futurefic, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorygates/pseuds/ivorygates
Summary: What it says on the tin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I found this while digging around in my bits'n'bobs drawer. Thought you might like to see it.

10 Years after Son et Lumiere

It's March, and the year (improbably) is 2015. She'll be fifty this year (even more improbably). They're combining it with the anniversary party. (Jack's contribution to the festivities is pretending he knows nothing about their planning.) 

Ninth isn't supposed to be one of the big ones, but it is to her. They all are.

It's been a helluva ride. They survived the Ori, the Lucian Alliance, Disclosure, Atlantean Independence (rebellion, insurrection, the histories the losers write tend to be pissy), and even the IOC's ridiculous disaster of a research project (three hundred dead when Icarus Base blew up; the largest single loss of life since the Program started). And all that paled beside their greatest challenge.

Retirement.

Jack retired three years ago (at sixty; she pretends she doesn't know his year of birth; for a boots-on-the-ground commando type he's amazingly vain sometimes). He only stayed so long to get them all through the first shock of Disclosure, and she spent a solid eighteen months talking to every government and reporter on the planet. She's one of the most famous people on Earth now (modified rapture).

Once Disclosure was over, Homeworld and its duties were cut up and parceled out (Earth's security is in the hands of the UN Stargate Committee these days; it's a wonder they're all still here) and all its bits and pieces placed in the hands of others (except Atlantis; Atlantis had gone its own way six months before Disclosure -- having finally escaped Earth with all flags flying -- and wasn't that a lovely shock for its neo-colonial masters?) 

And so, having spent seven years in bondage, he -- and she -- were free at last. No more bridge clubs and golf dates and dinners and receptions (pearls and high heels and formal dresses and careful makeup). No more china and silver and flowers from the best florists. Silver Creek is Northern Minnesota woodlands; the flowers here are small and wild and seasonal, and the locals are Minnesota Nice (she goes by "Mrs. O'Neill" here and they pretend to believe her, and any reporters asking for directions to the cabin end up somewhere along the Canadian border). Jack fishes. She doesn't. 

This is nowhere she'd ever thought she'd end up (there's so much snow in the winter even ATVs can't traverse the road into town). It didn't even have an inside bathroom when they moved up here (thank god for the _George Hammond_ \-- stationed permanently in Earth orbit -- and its Asgard beaming technology -- and the fact she's more than willing to call in favors -- or there still wouldn't be one). (The _Hammond_ is also how she commutes to Washington these days, but now -- at last -- she goes on her own terms.) She's outlived all her expectations of mortality, and in the end, received everything she never knew she wanted. She's walked between galaxies, and the boundaries of her world (now) are a hundred acres and a debatable lake.

It's home.

It's heaven.

#


End file.
